'For Thedas! For the Grey Wardens!' roared Arion at the top of his lungs as he rushed down the hillside with both of his swords drawn and accompanied by Garth and Cortez. Adrenaline coursed through the veins of the Duelist as his boots crunched down upon the snow and he gave a mighty leap, directly into the thick of the fighting. His right foot landed onto the face of a Genlock, shattering its teeth while delivering a well timed dual sweep of his swords which decapitated two Hurlocks.
A crude, Darkspawn sword wielded by another Hurlock was thrust towards Arion who expertly parried it with one of his own blades and he countered with a quick riposte that struck his attacker's throat. With speed and skill honed from long years of practice as a mercenary and later as one of the Wardens, he left a trail of death in his wake. Limbs and heads were sent flying as the runic white steel swords of Arion went flying in all directions, creating a barrier of flashing metal that served well both for defense and offense.
Next to him, Cortez plunged one of his own blades into the jugular of a Hurlock while stabbing a Genlock in the right eye before delivering a swift kick that sent another Hurlock reeling back. Among the monsters, Garth wove in between their attacks, his bloody dagger finding its way into corrupted flesh while the other held onto a fragile clay flask which was no doubt filled with something which he would use against the Darkspawn. And from the hill where they had been firing, Anna drew a special arrow which she let loose, the projectile flew into the neck of Genlock and it shattered into several small but sharp fragments which left other Darkspawn in a daze and leaving them as easy prey for the Wardens.
The Darkspawn were quickly and mercilessly cut down by the skilled band of Grey Wardens, their dark blood staining the white snow. Assisted by pieces of enchanted gear, which they were all equipped with, the Grey Wardens moved faster than was possible for any mortal man, the magic within it also lent them a greater degree of strength, allowing them to make even more, felling blows. They held their ground while Knight and the other warrior, both whom still stood, fought back to back and surrounded by an ever growing pile of corpses.
The whispering voices which accompanied the Darkspawn began to become more frantic and Arion immediately understood its meaning. All of the death and slaughter they had caused was enough to draw the attention of the beasts and now, orders were being filtered into their minds, marking the Wardens and the two warriors as primary targets. Good, thought Arion as he readied himself into an aggressive stance and soon he heard the loud, angry roars of the Ogres.
A loud smack, followed by the crunch of bone was heard by all as an unfortunate clansman was swept by the meaty fist of a giant, horned monster. Around Roanoke, many of his kin tried to flee from the giant monsters that seemed to easily shrug off the blows of their weapons. Having quickly become aware of how powerful these horned beasts were, the hunter had acquired a bow and a quiver from one of the slain archers and he quickly drew a shaft before taking aim.
Despite the fairly dire situation, he was glad that at least his daughter, Alfhild had safely managed to find her way to him.
'Aim for the eyes' whispered Roanoke and his daughter nervously nodded before placing an arrow to the string of her bow. Holding his breath and trying to steady his aim, Roanoke tried to blot out the carnage that was unfolding around him as he focused upon one of the giants. 'Now!' he then hissed and two arrows were sent flying, towards their target with one striking it in the right eye while the other tore a bloody gash into its left cheek.
The giant let out a loud roar of rage and pain and the beast gave them a baleful glare which turned Roanoke's blood into ice. Its bestial visage was made all the more terrible by the shaft protruding from its injured eye, blood pouring in rivulets that fell and mingled into the snow. Lowering its head, the horned giant lowered its shoulders and it charged towards them like an enraged bull.
Clansmen quickly tried to leap out of the monster's path but a few unfortunate ones were crushed underneath the heavy steps of the beast that moved with a surprising degree of speed. Another arrow was fired towards the giant, the pointed end burying into the meat of its left shoulder at the base of the neck and still it kept on coming towards them. Swiftly placing a hand on his daughter, Roanoke shouted for her to run and for a moment he saw the terrified look on her face before giving a quick nod and she obeyed him.
Tossing away the bow he had taken and drawing his forth his axe, Roanoke felt the beating of his heart as it increased in tempo and with grim certainty, he knew what was necessary. They could not outrun the beast, nor could they kill it with what weapons they had at the moment. A weary sigh escaped the lips of the huntsman as he tightened his grip upon his axe and he hoped to all the gods and to those who may be listening to protect is daughter.
Roaring a loud war cry of his own, Roanoke held his axe in both hands and he charged towards the horned giant, intent on at least bloodying the thing before death claimed him.
With another mighty swing of his mace, Lothaire caught one of the tall Darkspawn things on the side of its head and pulverizing it like a piece of rotten fruit. Dark, burning blood coated the shining plates of the Bretonnian's armour as pain coursed through him from where he had been struck by the crude weapons of the monsters and he could hear the sounds of battle and the death screams of other humans coming from the encampment. Surrounded by a horde of lesser enemies with much greater ones not far away, the Paladin could not help but feel a rush of excitement at his current situation.
Just as his recent battle against the Beastmen, Lothaire found that it was in times like this that he felt truly alive! His heart sang in feral joy as he crushed the bodies of monsters with his mace and he embraced the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins as he inhaled the foul scents of his foes. The blood of heroes flowed within the Paladin's veins for like all Bretonnia's aristocracy, his father and those before him had served the Lady and the Kingdom in the way a knight should and it would be a great dishonour to both himself and his ancestors if he did not strive to live up to their legacy.
Behind the Paladin, the Imperial fought with a brutal savagery to match that of a Noscan but one that was tempered by the discipline of a veteran warrior. The sight of the battling follower of Ulric drove Lothaire to greater heights of valour for he refused to be outdone, especially by someone from the Empire whose nobility had strange ideas about chivalry and knighthood which were laughable to any sane Bretonnian. Maintaining his focus on the horde of monsters, the Paladin struck down another with a single strike and he killed more and more until finally, they gained a moment's reprieve.
Corpses crushed to death by the mace and hammer of the two warriors surrounded them and both were quick to notice the fighting that occurred a short distance away. More bloodied bodies tumbled down the hill as the Grey Wardens made short work of the Darkspawn that assailed them with blades flashing in the darkness. Quickly deciding that the Wardens did not need his assistance, the Paladin quickly turned his attention towards the camp where more blood was being spilled.
Having fought in countless wars for almost three decades, Lothaire had grown to be intimately familiar with the sounds of war and he could, with a reasonable degree of success, tell how things fared and what he knew was not heartening. A complete slaughter was taking place in the encampment, the high pitched voices of women and children could be heard as their men-folk desperately tried to fight back against the things. He could not allow such a thing to continue, his honour demanded that he intervene, even if it meant losing his own life.
Looking to the Imperial, he could not tell what the man was thinking from behind that wolf-skull mask. The other warrior then turned his attention to the Knight and he gave a silent nod, a gesture which Lothaire approved of. There were dark fiends in dire need of purging this night and it was up to men like them to bring forth the cleansing fires of purgation.
It was just another day for the Paladin who gave a quiet prayer to the Lady of the Lake, a prayer hoping that the goddess would witness his deeds this day.
The slaughter of the barbarians filled the ears of Albrecht Krieger who was still in the throes of his battlerage, further fueling it. Cursing for the camp had been placed in a poorly defensible position; he knew that there were many places where the fiendish creatures could enter. Raising his head to the frozen air, he let out a mighty howl that joined the cacophony before running towards settlement with the Bretonnian following close behind him.
All was chaos within the camp as barbarians fought for their lives against rampaging packs of monsters carrying torches and blades. Fur tents were set ablaze as bodies were hacked apart by the savage creatures, blood stained the mud and snow which painfully reminded the Warrior Priest of too many sights he had seen. From the forests of the Empire to cold plains of Kislev, the lawless Border Princes and once even in Bretonnia, Albrecht had been part of an army that arrived too late to save a besieged town from the predations of the enemies of man and all that had been left was work for the priesthood of Morr.
Not today, vowed the Warrior Priest who had once been a Knight of the White Wolf. Even if the race of Men would bicker and fight among one another when no common foe was present, humanity had always always stood strong when given reason to unite. Just as when Sigmar unified the ancient tribes to form the Empire, when Magnus fought side by side with the Men of Kislev against the hordes of Asavar Kul, there was no enemy, whether they be greenskins, undead and even daemon that could withstand the unified strength of humanity.
With a purposeful stride that was mirrored by the Bretonnian, Albrecht led the way towards the center of the camp, near where the barbarian chieftain and his shaman had unsuccessfully attempted to communicate with him. If he had to guess, that was where the barbarians would make their stand or at the least, it would be where they would gather in the event of an attack. The sound of snow crunching underneath heavy booted feet was heard by the Warrior Priest who instinctively knew that it could not have been from the fur clad barbarians and he immediately went into a defensive stance.
A loud, bestial roar was heard to the right, followed by more footsteps and the Warrior Priest's instincts were proven correct. More monsters, some the short orc-looking ones, others the taller ones and even the lanky shrieking ones charged towards the two warriors like a blood-crazed band of greenskins. The Bretonnian shouted something towards them in the southern tongue, some insult or expletive he guessed but his understanding of the language was very minimal to say the least.
Letting the things come towards them, Albrecht waited counting their numbers and working with a basic plan on how he will fight these things. The first monster, a squat orc-like thing with two daggers, rushed ahead towards him with blades held in a reverse grip. Snarling in contempt at the monster, Albrecht quickly swung his hammer at it with both hands on the haft of his weapon and he smacked it to the side with a loud, neck snapping impact.
Next came one of the shrieking ghoul-things that leapt towards him but was immediately stopped in mid-flight as the enchanted mace of the Bretonnian came crashing down upon its skull and knocking it flat into the snowy ground. The other monsters fearlessly charged towards the two warriors, each one baying for human blood and each were answered with a powerful bone crushing force that left bodies with shattered ribs and fatal hemorrhaging.
Rage gave strength to the old Warrior Priest who felt Ulric's fury within his heart. With one last, wolf-like howl, Albrecht launched himself into the fray with frozen hammer leading the way.
Running as quickly as her feet would carry her, Alfhild looked back and gasped to see that her father was not behind her, rather he was directly facing the giant that had been coming after them. She wanted to shout and call to him but did not have enough time for the horned creature thrust his head forwards like a bull. Alfhild's eyes widened in horror as her father jumped and he slid between the legs of the giant before slashing the inner part of its left thigh with his axe.
The giant turned roared in both pain and rage before slamming its left fist down behind it and sending up a shower of snow. 'Da!' shouted Alfhild who did not see if her father had been struck and she quickly drew another arrow from her quiver and she placed it to the string of her bow. Anger and fear gave her a strange sort of clarity as she aimed for thing's neck and she let fly with a single shot that found its mark.
Feral joy filled the young huntress as her shot found its way to the horned giant's throat, burying deeply into the center of the throat where a man's apple would be. Dark blood began to gurgle from its mouth as it fell to its knees and to her joy, she saw her father appear behind it with bloodied axe in hand. Her father quickly went to the side of the creature and he finished it off with a heavy chop to the back of the neck which was followed by another one and another.
Relieved to see that her father was still alive, she heard a loud shrieking from behind her. Instinctively turning around to face this threat, her hand immediately went for another arrow and she saw another of the thin limbed monsters bounding towards her. Knowing well enough that she would not have enough time to aim and shoot, she quickly rushed the thing with her arrow tightly held in her hand while shouting a wordless war cry that was more filled with terror and desperation.
Not bothering to think about it and just running up to the moving beast, she thrust her arrow up like a dagger with the head aimed at its face and she felt the impact as she managed to stab the thing from beneath its chin. In a brief moment, she realized that she had made a grave miscalculation as the creature collided into her with a painful impact that knocked the breath out of her lungs and both fell into a heap. Everything began to spin as Alfhild crashed into the ground and she felt the heavy weight of the fatally wounded monster kept her pinned down.
The world quickly reoriented itself as the moment of vertigo passed and Alfhild struggled to get the surprisingly heavy creature off of her before she heard the crunch of snow beneath several booted feet. Lifting up her head and trying to get a better view of what it was, her eyes widened in alarm when she saw a group of several Darkspawn running towards her and she began to redouble her efforts in pushing away the corpse and she knew that she did not have much time. Pushing with all of her might, she managed to lift it up a little before the pack of monsters were already upon her and she quickly closed her eyes for the inevitable.
After an agonizingly slow moment, of expecting a blade to come down upon her prone form, Alfhild's eyes opened and she was surprised to find that she was still alive. The Darkspawn had run passed her, their attentions focused on something behind them and she used the time to try to get herself out. She then heard the approach of other figures which were followed by the clatter of metal plates and she briefly saw to her relief, the wolf-pelted shaman and another stranger.
Spattered in dark blood that stained once pristine plates, the second stranger, a man who was also all armored up like a knight from the north, was accompanying the shaman. His helmet bore a pair of great elk antlers which adorned the sides of the head gear and he wore red garments which depicted a similar beast. A massive bloody mace was held in the hands of the stranger and it brightly glowed with a light the color of a clear day sky.
Calling to the knight and the shaman, asking for help, the antler helmeted man quickly came to her assistance. He effortlessly pushed away the corpse while using his left hand and Alfhild used to newfound space to roll away from where she had been fallen and she got back up to her feet. A foreign word was then spoken by the shaman whose masked gaze seemed fixed on the remaining horned giants and he reached for the horn that dangled from the side of his belt.
Just as in the bear cave, the wolf-pelted shaman set down his hammer and he slightly lifted up his skull mask enough to place the instrument to his lips and he gave a single, loud howl that sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing. A charge suddenly filled the air as whatever magic was placed upon it was used and the snow that fell from the sky soon turned into a raging blizzard. Having lived most of her life in these cold and harsh lands, Alfhild was disturbed by how unnatural the storm was for its chill did not bite into her, the way it should.
The two armored warriors then without a word, charged towards the remaining horned giants, their heavy bludgeoning weapons held in their hands as a winter storm engulfed fill the camp.
Delivering a well timed, dual-sweep of both of his blades, Arion decapitated a pair of Darkspawn as his companions continued their deadly dance. Corpses littered the ground around them as they fought and before long, they found themselves surrounded by only the dead and the dying. Taking a moment to survey the carnage which they had wrought, the Duelist was pleased to know that they had slain many of the foul beasts but in his heart, he knew that they had not even scratched the surface.
'Regroup!' called Arion and his companions formed up into a loose formation to allow each of them space to maneuver. Anna joined them with her own blades now drawn, her quiver had been emptied of all arrows yet like the rest of them, she was as deadly in close quarters.
'Are we heading to the camp?' asked Cortez who had pulled out another bottle of toxins which he carefully poured upon his bloody blade.
'Those people will need our help' added Anna with concern as Garth quietly handed her another vial filled with a poisonous agent.
While the sight of the besieged Chasind clan was more than enough to make the Duelist wish to intervene, he realized that there was a great opportunity to be gained here. In the past, the Grey Wardens had unified the various nations and races of Thedas to combat the threat of the previous Blights and it dawned upon him that if they could rescue this group of Wilders, they could use them to try to convince other clans or at least be directed to someone who could possibly unite the barbarians. Although he doubted that a single army of Chasind could actually stop the horde, they could at least be useful in buying time for their comrades in Ferelden, Orlais and the other nations.
Although their mission had been to gather information and to slow down the Darkspawn, he quickly became aware of what they could accomplish with an army at their backs. First things first he reminded himself as he still felt the presence of the two ogres which continued to rampage across the camp. They needed to make sure that these particulars Wilders survived the Darkspawn onslaught, a task which the Wardens were well suited for.
Giving a quite hand signal to the rest of his party, the Wardens quickly sprinted towards the camp which was now being battered by a blizzard which had the unnatural tinge of magic to it, their blades were ready for any attacking Darkspawn. They soon passed through the first of the burning, fur-hide tents, the smell of burning wood, animal skins and flesh both humans and monstrous filled the air. The number of dead Chasind greatly outweighed those of their attackers and it was without a doubt to Arion that had his party and the Knight not intervened then the clan would have been slaughtered like the others they had encountered.
Feeling the nearby presence Darkspawn which in turn, sensed them, the Wardens knew that the monsters were now coming for them. From between one of the tents, a pack of Shrieks bounded towards them like wolves on the hunt, their dark, glittering eyes and the fires which burned many of the tents giving them a more fiendish appearance. Unperturbed by the sight of the monsters, The Grey Warden went back to performing their sworn duty.
Blades flashed, bodies fell and blood further stained the snow as the Darkspawn had sent nothing which could seriously threaten the veteran party of well equipped Grey Wardens. As they fought, the whispering voices, that which directed the their monstrous foes began to become more frantic and each of them began to redouble their efforts. Forging an army would have to wait for a moment as there were now, far more pressing matters to be concerned with.
Seeing the two warriors with blood spattered armor run past him, Roanoke turned around and watched as they directly went after the horned giants. His heart still pounded heavy as his limbs trembled and he felt the rush of adrenaline within his veins. The gore from the horned giant which he and Alfhild had felled still clung to his arms, each smear felt as if hot coals had been placed upon his flesh.
The unnatural blizzard which had suddenly arrived after the peal of the wolf shaman's horn, began to increase in tempo. A chill which cut to the very bone began to fill the huntsman and yet, he drew some strange sort of strength from it. Of the horned giants, he saw that their movements began to slow as the blizzard seemed to be affecting them more than the clansmen and those who had still been battling the beasts were better able to avoid the deadly strikes of the monsters.
He watched as the two warriors engaged the giants in close combat, they moved with a degree speed and agility that should have been impossible under all of that armor and for a moment, he thought that he saw… something surrounded them. Of the wolf shaman, he caught a brief glimpse of white flames which burned around him like and the other of whom must surely be a knight from the north, was similarly surrounded by light and mists. The sight only lasted for a brief moment, a blink of an eye before both men appeared as any mortal should and they were upon giants.
The shaman's hammer pulverized the back of a horned giant's as its gaze was focused on an clansman it had picked up, causing it to collapse and allow the fellow Wilder to get clear. As soon as it was done, the other clansmen attacked like hungry wolves, their blades and bludgeons descended upon the now vulnerable monster before the maul of Thane Ivar who had still survived, ended the life of the beast. The last giant on the other hand had noticed the approach of the knight and it let loose a challenging roar before stomping towards him.
The knight did not falter in his steps towards the beast which thrust its right fist towards the man in a powerful punch. In response, the armored warrior swung his weapon down in an overhead strike which caught it directly behind the knuckles and slamming its fingers down into the snow. The giant loudly shouted in both pain and rage before the knight delivered a series of furious assaults which battered its chest.
Loud smacks of metal upon flesh followed by the snapping of bone were heard by those near the battling giant and the knight who continued to batter the beast while skillfully weaving around its attacks. It staggered back from the mighty blows inflicted by the glowing two handed mace as it tried to retaliate against the swift moving warrior and it left itself open for the fatal blow. With a single, powerful overhead swing, the knight's mace connected against its throat and crushing it.
Falling to its knees and desperately gasping for air, its suffering did not last long before the armored knight finished it off with a final strike to its forehead, delivered with such force that it buried deeply into its skull and its eyes bulged, almost as if they were going to pop out from the sockets. Thane Ivar then took up his horn and he blew it again, calling for what was left of the clan to rally around him.
Hearing soft steps from behind him, he glanced back to see his approaching daughter and Roanoke gave a relieved smile to her.
'Are you all right?' asked the huntsman to his daughter.
'I should be asking you that Da' replied Alfhild and the huntsman caught the sight of four approaching, hooded figures who each carried bloodied blades. Immediately wary upon seeing these strangers, Roanoke felt only slightly more reassured when he saw that they were clearly human.
'I don't have much time to explain' loudly called one of the cloaked individuals, a man who spoke the common language with a thick, northern accent. 'But we must leave, now!'
'Who are you? Why must we leave?' suspiciously asked Roanoke as he took a step forward and he protectively placed himself between these strangers and his daughter.
'We are Grey Wardens' quickly replied the speaker. 'And right now I need to find your Chieftain and tell him we need to leave!'
'Is it more of those monsters?' asked Alfhild with worry in her voice.
'Far worse' warily replied the hooded stranger and soon several more, bestial war cries were heard in the distance. It was then that Roanoke began to hear the deep but steady rhythm of drums, beating to the sound of war.
